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I once had a friend. I thought he was a friend. I called him my best friend for years. We did everything that best friends would do. Talk. Play. We grew up together. He used to sexually assault me. Regularly. Often daily. I would kick him and punch him. I would get mad at him. He would overpower me and laugh at me. And then just like that- I would forgive him. Because he was my FRIEND. And I thought it was okay because he was my friend. I thought it honestly didn't matter. I thought because I was already being sexually exploited by family that this behavior was normal and okay. This went on for 8 years...It took me 15 years to understand how NOT okay the exploitation from my family and this friend really is. During that time I allowed so many other things that were not, nor will ever be okay. I have spent years recovering. Having panic attacks and not understanding why I was unable to feel. Going to counseling. I've figured out so much. But right now, I'm grieving. So much was lost that didn't have to be. Being so scared all the time. I missed out on so much life. Being angry feels useless to me right now. It's doesn't change it. I'm just so sad for the life I could have had. That others I love could have had. My life is at a place where there is honestly so much good. But right now, I will allow myself to be sad.

During my tween/teen years, I was sexually abused by many different grown men. Some family. Some friends. I went along with it even when it hurt or I was scared. I stole money from them to make me feel better about what happened. I felt like I deserved it. Like I wasn't worthy of being protected. Fast forward, I'm in my late 30s now and I learned that my maternal grandmother (age 15) was forced into marriage to my grandfather (in his 30s). She had 3 kids with him by the time she was 18 years old and one of them was my mother. The story my mother told me my whole life was that she was abandoned by her birth mother. And I believe she feels that way as her child. But she adores her father and can see no wrong in the dynamic between them because "that's just the way things were back then," referring to child marriage. My mother would go on to have 6 daughters, 2 of which would experience the same abuse by older men. I'm just coming to terms that while I have my own trauma related to my experiences, I carry my grandmother's pain too.

I grew up in the region, on a dairy farm. Life was not as it could have been. There was no love just physical abuse from my Dad and emotional abuse from my mom. I had 4 sisters, two are beautiful, the other two manipulative, narcissistic, and cruel. I call them “The Uglies”. They have done so many horrible things to my beautiful sisters and myself over the years it’s disgusting. I have asked The Uglies to leave me alone throughout my life and they have overstepped my boundaries, police officers warnings, a Judges warning and the Attorney General’s. Now on to the current situation they have created. My mom passed away recently and left her 13 great grandchildren a few thousand dollars each. Now it’s important at this point to know that we quietly left our state, because of all the harassment they caused us. I have had no contact with these people for years. So they try to reach us to give my three grandchildren their inheritance. The beautiful’s call me with this wonderful news but the uglies want our address. They try to get the money for us to forward, they won’t have it. So my daughter gives them her work address. The money gets distributed but my grandchildren don’t receive theirs! It was illegally put into accounts for them by one of the uglies husbands, IN HIS NAME as primary. We then received a registered letter saying it wasn’t mandatory that our grandchildren receive it. Well this ones Husband is the former Mayor of the small town this happened in and he knew about it. This is called “Malicious Intent.” Two of my grandchildren are disabled, which takes the crimes they committed doing this from a misdemeanor to a felony. All the other ten grandchildren received their money!!! One of the beautiful’s asked for a copy of-the distribution document, she was refused. One of the uglies couldn’t have children, the other one has 5 grandchildren. The beautiful’s and I believe that their grandchildren received more funds then they should have, or why not disclose the document??? So now one of the beautiful’s have sent my grandchildren the inheritance they were legally to receive and the uglies and their husbands are facing felony charges with what they have done. Why? Why do this to children? Their Grandmother left them a very kind gesture to show she loved and cared. Then these arrogant, ignorant, manipulative, narcissistic psychopaths think it’s funny to do this!!! So like a politician though right, stealing from the poor!!!

Last year I was gang raped. I have an ear ringing called tinnitus that has not stopped since. I have nightmares. I flew with my mom to a wedding overseas. I was excited. She would be busy with her friends and cousin and I would get to spend time with my awesome second cousin who is two years older than me. After the rehearsal dinner we went out. It was fun because I was not legally able to drink there even though the age was lower than in my province, but they did not check ID’s. I did not drink much because it was not my thing and I had a boyfriend but I was able to go to some bars then a club attached to a hotel. So much fun up to when we met two soldiers in uniform who were cute and separated us from her friends because of our looks. My cousin is stunning beautiful. They had a private room at the club and several soldiers were there and two prostitutes also. Those prostitutes definitely hated us being there. I wanted to get out anyway and the cute ones that invited us acted like they understood and took us out of there. We stupidly let them take us to their hotel room where they totally dropped the cute romantic act and made us strip our clothes to music. They showed us a gun they had in a drawer. I was terrified. They made us lay on our stomachs bent over the bed side by side and had sex with us that way. They switched like we were interchangeable before finishing in us with no protection. We held hands. I was crying while my cousin was trying to be strong and cheer me up. We weren’t allowed to leave and our clothes were hidden. Before took our phones we had to text that we were staying at my cousin’s friend’s house. Then they called two other soldiers, one of them a huge tall dark guy with body builder muscles. He was the worst to me. They made us dance and then we had to use our mouths on the cute ones that had lured us there while the other two had sex with us. I vomited and my cousin cleaned it up but then it started again. They had cocaine and made us sniff it off their parts and sniffed it off us. Another one came and I think it was just those five during the night but they kept raping us and making us do things even when we would pass out. I would like to have been more unconscious but cocaine makes you so awake. I want to remember less and think about it all less. We showered many times. The big dark one peed on me and in my mouth the shower. He did it more than once like I was his toilet. The other men even had to tell him to chill out when he was making me scream liking his fingers and pushing them in my arse, but not when he made me crawl around like a dog using my hair as a leash. I remember one of them calling their friends to tell them to turn all their t.v.’s way up to hide the noise in our room. They watched sports news on the t.v. They had me and my cousin kiss each other and stuff. I could not act like it was a fun party like my cousin did sometimes and encouraged me to do. She tried to take some of their attention away from me over and over. I love her for it but they did not leave me alone. My chest is something they were obsessed with. They did not care that I was obviously distressed and freaking out or that in my country I was three years below the age of consent. There I was the minimum. We woke up in the morning on one the beds together with only the two soldiers sleeping on the floor. The black one was gone! They had sex with us again and another man who was much older and who they called SIR came in and had sex with both us but mostly me. They cheered him on and my head was pounding and I was crying and it seemed to last forever. Finally we got our clothes back but they took us for brunch wearing their normal clothes. They showed me pictures on their phones that made it look like I was having fun and warned us how bad it would be if we said anything different than we had a nice party. A nice party in hell! Before that I’d had sex with only my 1 boyfriend ever. One night of hell and now my number was seven!! We had to start getting ready for the wedding right away and I was exhausted. My cousin hid me and I took a nap in my dress, hair and makeup until the last minute. I cried in the ceremony but not for the wedding. I was so sore in my vagina, muscles, and brain that I got so drunk at the reception I barely remember any of it. Just part of being on the plane home. I told my mom the truth when I got back and she got all crazy, so did my dad, and they tried to call over there and the hotel and such but there was nothing the police would do. I saw my dad cry for the first time as I told the whole story. My boyfriend could not handle it and dumped me. I go to group and do therapy. I take a pill everyday and now benzo’s for break through anxiety. I try to hide my large chest under baggy clothes where before I used it for attention. STUPID! My cousin does not seem to have the trauma I do or the nightmares. In her country they are done with secondary school up to two years before us and are more treated like adults sooner. I said mean things to her once because of it. She forgave me but we talk much less since I asked if she has gang bangs all the time. I felt terrible because she even let them have anal sex with her to lure them away from me. I could tell it hurt her so much but at the time was just thinking about my own survival. My childhood is OVER but I do not feel like an adult. Her advice is -Don’t let it get you so down-. Like I have a choice in this!! She went to a therapist ONCE because her mom made the appointment and does not plan to go back. Her life did not really change!! She works reception at a tech company and models on the side and still goes to parties and clubs and dates. How??? It is unbelievable how attitudes toward something like this can be so different in different countries. I am a victim now and I usually feel like it. Definitely damaged. Everybody at my school knows why. I am THAT girl. My new more mature boyfriend is understanding but I feel like a sad little burden to him. I am hypersexual sometimes now and can’t help it. It is a coping mechanism that happens to some victims of sexual assault. I did not ask for it. I worry my boyfriend can’t trust me because of it. I had an older guy friend who’s been my neighbor for years take advantage of me after I told him the story of what happened at his house. We had sex and then he felt guilty for being turned on by my rape story. He admitted it and asked me to forgive him. The sex helped me calm the ear ringing for just short time periods so I did it with him more than once a day for a bit until my dad started to suspect something and talked to him. Since then I don’t trust myself. I want to marry my boyfriend in large part just to protect myself and show him I love him and am loyal even though I am not sure I can be. I worry I cannot love like a normal person. I worry I push him away being too needy and wanting to marry him so soon. I need him more than he needs me. Is that the way it will always be in relationships for rape victims??? I work hard at school not to ruin my future. It is so hard to focus. My ears ring constantly. Thank you for listening.

In my original shared story, IT STARTED WITH MY BROTHER, I talked about my abuse from a bird’s eye view. It was my abuse life as I was able to share it at the time. I have been working up to sharing 3 instances of rapes that I only avoided by allowing the men to take what they wanted instead of fighting. The most traumatic of the three incidents I mentioned involved a police officer. This is that account. I was pulled over on my way home from a study group as junior at the university on a week night. We had shared two drinks toward the end. I DO NOT condone driving and drinking but I was not drunk, as the breathalyzer later confirmed. I was pulled over and already had the nerves associated with that, amplified by the fact that I was under the legal drinking age for another three weeks. That is when I first met the cop I will just call SIK. He gave me a creepy vibe when I first saw him and that never stopped. Still, I flirted with him to an extent desperate to not get it huge trouble. He had me get out of the car, take of my hoodie, under which I only had a basic sports bra. It was only sixty degrees or so that night. I was cold and shivering from fear and the temperature. I saw him look at my body with no filter. Another cop car pulled up with two officers while I was doing the field sobriety tests. He had already searched me in an uncomfortable way. One of the officers who arrived was female and also searched me after he had said I had some problems with the sobriety tests. Walking backwards on an imaginary line heel to toe was the only thing I had trouble with. It is hard! The female cop brought out the breath test I had asked for. I blew 0.035. That is less than half the legal limit. At that point SIK said he was just going to follow me home, rather than arrest me, and the other car left. The whole stop took maybe an hour. Cars drove by on the side street I had pulled onto. Headlights and tail lights in the dark. After the other car left SIK talked to me more harshly and threatening than ever. He said a girl like me is probably used to getting away with everything. He asserted that he could still take me to jail anytime he decides as as he takes me home and makes sure I am safe everything I do is still a test. He could bust me for possession of alcohol and I would lose my license. I was scared. I told him my roommate was home. She was a student too and was supposed to be there. After following me inside my apartment I called out for my roommate. Then I checked her room. She was not there! SIK then accused me of lying to a police officer and locked the deadbolt from the inside. He made me stand with my hands on my own dining room wall with my legs spread. I wanted to call her so he could talk to her and confirm she was usually there, but he stopped me and made me just text her to see when she would be home. He gave instruction not to ask or say anything more and checked before I sent it. She was at her sisters and would not be back until late. At that point he took off his utility belt and put it on my kitchen counter. He told me after all he had done for me was no longer free, since I lied to him. His gun was right there next to us. He made sure I saw it and he even twisted it so it was pointed toward me. I was scared and pleading with him. I really was willing to do anything. I am not sure but I think I told him that. He radioed from his shoulder thing that he was taking a “lunch” break. What I definitely remember was when he said he was going to do a proper strip search this time, down to full nudity and asked if I agreed to that. At that point I no longer had a doubt what was happening. I made the mental adjustment but what he did was more than I had prepared for. He gave me vulgar compliments about my body as he blatantly molested me. He kneaded my breasts like dough. He fingered me as asked if you could use a special appendage he had that went farther in. I knew what he meant. I was repulsed but I agreed. After the initial eager sex with me still having my hands on the wall leaning forward he slowed down. I had been hoping it was almost over but he decided to prolong it. He commanded me to my bedroom. He took off all his clothes besides his socks. He complemented his own anatomy and made me agree. His member was well above average in size but I doubt, if he had not had a wedding band on, that he would ever get to use it. He was half bald, had a prominent eyebrow like a neanderthal, and a pale beer belly with lots of moles all over his body. He had a mustache and goatee that did not completely hide his poor complexion that looked like he had scars from severe acne. Almost all men all taller than me but he was short and only towered over me by a few inches. Never had I lied bigger than when I told him what he wanted to hear about being sexy and wanting him. The only truth was about his large penis. SIK spoke a lot, mostly degrading me and confirming that I agree with him. Cliche stuff, like me being a whore, slut, dirty, and liking what he made me do to him, but also asked about my sex life and abuse history. He wanted me to say that my dad and coaches abused me, but I would not lie about that. Instead I told him some of the truth about my brother abusing me. That was probably the worst part. Saying out loud to SIK what I never used to admit to anyone, for his great pleasure, harmed me. That was worse that the physical stuff. Worse than making me kiss him during parts of it. He was also cruel. He tried to gag me and push all the way down my throat while he made him do oral. He pushed my ankles behind my head while he pounded me with his abusing thrusts. I could see the cruel lust in his eyes. I could see his wicked smile. He slapped my face many times, just not very hard. He did spank me hard. He realized he had me captive and vulnerable to his whim and he was finally living his darkest fantasies. I was doing anything he wanted and encouraging it because I wanted it to stop. So many times he stopped himself right before he was going to climax! He did not want it to end. SIK tried to have anal sex with me and I was accommodating him but he was just too big to fit. I was crying during most of this out of pain but trying to act like an eager partner to make it end. I later thought that might have prolonged it. SIK was probably the time that would prefer I suffer more, like I was being raped instead of hiding my pain. It was not much longer than twenty minutes but it was so bad and I relived it so many times in my mind before I got smashed drunk and high the next night after work. So the memory lived much more prominently in my head than a simple 25 minute encounter. I do reach climax easily, but I never had one orgasm from him because of his preference for causing sexual pain. When he suddenly released inside me he got quiet and barely said another word as he dressed, gun belt and all, and left quietly. I have no idea what that meant. It scared me. I was afraid while driving for a while, and avoided sleeping at home as much as I could, which sometimes meant sleeping with men and even male friends just to not go home. It was the main reason I did not renew my lease and moved it to a smaller apartment by myself. This was the same roommate whose father had already slept with me without my initial blessing. I did tell my roommate a short version of it and she reacted like it was cool story. I did kind of tell it that way, as a way of dealing with it. The easy path of least resistance. To not admit it may have been the worse sexual thing to happen to me. The true worst things that happened to me in my college years were broken hearts from losing men I loved. But those are stories for a different forum. I don’t put my heart out there to be trampled anymore. This incident was one of the wake up calls that stood out as an omen for me to change my whole lifestyle and try to salvage myself. It was also one of the things that took me the longest to mention to my therapist even though I thought about it during sessions.

A friend and I dated within the same friend group, and I used to hang out with the guys a lot--I considered them as my brothers. One night when we were altogether, I felt too drunk to take myself home and felt safe with my friends ex to get a cab and drop me off. He came in uninvited and kissed me, then all I remember are flashes of us being naked, him being inside of me, going down on me, etc., but I felt like I couldn't move. I woke up to shower, my bed was broken, and he was gone. I called him the next day to confront him about it, and that I don't even remember what happened. He said he thought "i enjoyed it" (I was unconscious half of the time), and only stopped because the bed broke. Although he apologized he had the audacity to tell me not to share this with anyone, and to this day only very few close friends know about this incident. It truly broke my trust even with platonic guy friendships.

You think your age makes you less to blame, But I carry the weight, I bear the shame. You crossed the line — no excuse to hide, No softer words can wash this tide. I’m not the one who should feel small, You built this cage, you made me fall. No matter your years, no matter your face, You took from me my safe, my space. But here I stand, I claim my voice, I break the chains, I make the choice. I won’t be silent, I won’t back down, I wear my courage like a crown. So hear me now, and hear me clear, Your actions caused this pain and fear. Age won’t protect what you have done— I am the survivor, I have won.

10/10/18 My Daughter, These Things I Know Do not go to bed angry Make eye contact Offer a firm handshake Smile at people—stranger and friend alike No one will remember in one month Exercise your mind Go outside Studying does not count without a pen Focus on your lifestyle over your waistline Say yes to travel Say yes to long car rides Say yes to sharing one on one moments Pick up a book—the closest we have to time travel Take pictures Please and Thank you matter Raise your argument rather than your voice Time heals Your body is yours—to explore, to protect, to celebrate There is strength in vulnerability Know when you do not know Parents are just people too Never turn your back on the ocean You will make mistakes Forgive yourself—now try again It is alright to not be alright Write it down Practice loyalty A habit forms in seven days—stick with it Sing in the car—blame the voice on your mother Do not get on a motorcycle Be kind—stranger and friend alike Stay humble Stay curious Do not walk alone at night Do not pretend that is fair Stand your ground Know when to not stand your ground Find your people—love them fiercely and fully Trust your gut You are not alone

Can you hear me? Can you hear me? I'm a survivor of sexual abuse. I'm here to help others break free from the silence. I know the pain of silence. I know the fear that comes with speaking out. But I also know the power of healing that comes with sharing your story. I am here to tell you that you are not alone. There are millions of us, survivors of sexual abuse, all around the world. We are all connected in our shared experience, and we are all stronger together. I am here to tell you that you are not to blame. What happened to you was not your fault. You are worthy of love and respect. I am here to tell you that you are not powerless. You have the strength to heal. You have the courage to speak out. I am here to help you break free from the silence. I am here to listen to you. I am here to believe you. Together, we can create a world where sexual abuse is not tolerated. A world where survivors are heard and supported. A world where healing is possible.

I would like to help women ( or men) learn that you can overcome the difficulty of leaving Domestic Violence and start life , in my case, for the 1st time I was "married" for 20 years in the DV and have been out for 13 years. It is a difficult process, but worth the effort to give yourself your life.

I grew up homeless and in foster care in two separate states and was trafficked for many years: I want to impress upon people that true equity begins with giving people the resources and space to share their lived experience. Redistributing power to the Survivors allows them to influence better evidence based practice forward, lets them know they are not alone, gives them places to heal, and the opportunity to take something negative and oftentimes, horrific: and shine a light on a new path for children who are currently struggling with their own victimization. Survivors have the expertise to provide solutions that work in real time to protect children.

To my fellow survivor, I am a 9 year survivor of sexual assault. I am proud to be sharing my story, and hoping my words can provide comfort and courage. Something that was very important to me was reporting my rapist. Fear takes over our body, and we feel numb. I wanted to cocoon myself in a blanket and stay there forever. The thought of contacting law enforcement was terrifying. Taking that scary step can make you feel empowered. I wanted my voice, my story, and my emotions to be heard. There is a quote “speak the truth, even if your voice shakes.” This quote carried me through one of the most difficult times in my life. When we speak our truth, we are no longer carrying this alone. You are being heard and taking back the power. Share your story, heal with love and care, and most of all surviving is the bravest of all. “I now see how owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.” Brené Brown

It took 10 years of emotional, physical and financial abuse from a narcissistic man to realize that I stayed because it felt normal. My childhood wasn’t a healthy environment. So when I met my ex his avoidant and violent nature felt right. The gaslighting and love bombing were so common in my childhood home, I didn’t see the red flags when they popped up. Today I’m still struggling with imposter syndrome. How much of it was real affection? How much was more manipulation and lies? I wanted to share this, because sometimes I need to be validated that it all did happen, it wasn’t a fever dream. So I hope this helps someone out there. You’re not alone. What you’re feeling is valid. It’s scary and confusing at first, but it gets so much better. One day at a time. One small healthy decision at a time. It’s not gonna get better overnight, it will take a while. It’s been 1 year since we split, 2 months since the divorce. I’m taking my time to reset my nervous system and figure out who I am, without his narrative over me. You are loved.

To me it happened about 7 years ago, I was going to sleep over at a friend and I never realized his true intentions till it was too late. I wasn't sexually active myself at the time, and my abuser was maybe a few months older. I remember being there a few months earlier and he wanted to watch porn, I was young and naive and had never really seen porn. Thinking back, this was just one big flashing warning sign. When it happened, I didn't fight back. I froze. And after I waited the longest night for the next morning. I don't know why I just didn't leave immediately, I don't know why I didn't fight back. The next morning I left as soon as I could, pretending everything's normal. Once I got home I took a shower and I just stood there without showing any emotions, like I was dead on the inside. I thought it through for a good amount of time, I thought about what happened, why it happened, what I will do to prevent it from happening again. I remembered him taking pictures and some other details. Once I stepped out of the shower I had my verdict, I was going to pretend nothing happened. I was afraid he would use the pictures as blackmail, I thought exposing him would end up hurting my parents and others I care about. I was able to live with this lie for about 4 years, mostly not feeling anything during this time. But at a certain point I started feeling anger and shame, I kept this bottled up for a long time. Eventually I burst and told my friends, sadly my friends did not believe me. This caused me to feel even more anger. A year after telling my friends the story came out that my abuser had abused another kid, who was 4 years younger. It was not only rape but the abused was under-aged whereas the abuser was not anymore. My friends read this and knew that what I told them was true, they immediately contacted me and forced me to go to the police and tell my parents. When telling my parents I could see my father was disappointed. The morning after they pretended like nothing happened. When I told the police I got sent home since they required a specialist that was specialized in sexual abuse. I tried to go back a few times and kept being sent home. Finally someone listened to my report. However the abuser only got removed as trainer for a young football team and had to clean up trash for a month or 2. It's a long story and I doubt many read it, the reason I decided to share it anyways is to give advice to the few that did read it. If you encountered anything similar to this, please report it to the police. You don't want to end up like me, blaming yourself for future victims of your abuser. I do not expect that after I shared this I will feel relieved, I do not expect to get a good night's sleeps after this. But if this helps even a single person, this will be worth it.

I knew the man that raped me, he is the father of my daughter which he also strangled. There are two sides to this man, one that's beautiful, loving and very calm and the other that is violent and manipulating. I was too scared to tell anyone because who would believe me. People that I thought were friends saw the smashed glass and the punches above my height on the door. They saw how unwell I became and that I attempted to take my life. It took me months after leaving to realise the extent of what we (me and my children) had experienced. But I left for my children because the truth was I still loved him, but the love for my children was bigger. Going through the courts dare I say is even harder to cope with than surviving the abuse itself. I have met so many amazing people and judges that have been hugely supportive, but sadly also so many corrupt people in that police reports and videos went missing, contact centres that lied which honestly I'm in such disbelief now and the shock itself made me ill. Judges and barristers know each other and gas lighting on a larger scale. I'm totally and utterly terrified and wish I never come forward. I am ashamed to say if I was a reader I would not believe this story. But it's my story to tell, that has imprisoned my life. I don't feel I can trust anyone because so many have lied without real heartfelt thought for my poor children. I'm so very tired of being scared. I'm not alone here in this country there are many of us silenced by the very people that ought to protect us. I desperately want to trust our family courts, but after reading about others going through what we have been through I feel scared about what will happen to my children as my punishment for coming forward. I have one child with this man but 4 children altogether. No one will really know what we survived only now to be at risk of having the remaining time of their childhood further stolen. How naïve I have been.

For 15 years we were together. Three kids. But he would have sex with me when I slept. Sometimes I would wake and pretend to be asleep, other times I’d wake in the morning, pyjamas pulled down sore and covered in his ejaculate. It was like what happened at night wasn’t real, even though I hated it. I hated sex with him because not, I feared bedtime, I’d occasionally convent to buy myself a few days knowing he would leave me alone. Until the day he did it while I was awake, when I said no, and that I didn’t want to he replied ‘but I want to’ and then he did. I froze, that one time is the one that 5 years later never leaves my head, I think of it every day. But I’m good now. I left him, I’ve a partner who understands and would never do anything like that. I’m happy. But the ptsd is always right there

I grew up in a very violet household and later found myself in a terrifying situation after leaving my partner. I was stalked and maliciously attacked by him. I was unable to get much help as he was a military man and the city has more intentions of protecting him than me. It has made me one of the strongest people I know. I am a survivor and I use my voice and story to inspire others to get out and find a new way. It ends with all of us together.

First of all, I'm so grateful for the good work you all do, and to be a part of the Me Too movement. Thank you so much! I have found the healing work from sexual assault (s) is tricky stuff, very tricky. The Me Too movement has certainly made progress in many areas providing platforms for women to do both personal healing and social justice work. Sadly, all that doesn't simply undo what's been internalized as we grow up and even as grownups. Like all of us here, I too have felt the hurt of internalized messages that pitted me against myself. Even as a feminist and activist who "does her work" all my adult life, those messages have really been something big for me to contend with. Being well aware of how we tend to internalize society's messages about us, which is even worse for BIPOC, you can imagine the shock I felt when shame and self-blame arose within me after I was sexually assaulted last fall. Because of the embarrassment and self-blame that showed up so strongly, there were very few people I turned to for help. The shame even wanted me to not tell my own therapist about what happened! Thankfully, a wise friend strongly encouraged me to tell my therapist about the assault anyway. She told me that silence is exactly how shame works and to not give it the power to cause me further psychological harm. Easier said than done, but I did end up telling my therapist, and am glad I did. I also found myself reaching out to sexual assault hotlines a few times, and the women on the other end were so kind and supportive. They reminded me that it was not my fault, that I/we always have the right to say no regardless of what led up to the assault. But calling for help was tricky too. I didn't want my local sexual abuse hotline to know that I called. Why? Shame. Blame. Embarrassment. It told me that I'm too old and should know better. Those messages had me feeling embarrassed and believing that I let the assault happen, could have prevented it if only... Another reason is that I facilitated a Local Event evening, a sold-out event, and donated all the proceeds to my local sexual violence service center. My phone number is still from the state I used to live in so instead of leaning on my own community's resources, I felt safer to have that distance from my own hotline location. The irony was just too much to bear. It's only been a year since the assault. My body has had a hard year culminating in a spinal injection for the herniated disks that happened from "the incident". I still can't practice my beloved yoga without reinjuring myself, an all too frequent reminder of what happened that fateful night. It could have been worse if I had not said no. I could have been raped and more greatly injured. Being pushed down and my body being twisted was bad enough though, and I still need to heal from the whole ordeal. I also need to do further healing work from all the rapes I experienced as a teenager. Since I've shared my story here, I'm beginning to feel that perhaps I will even be able to reach out to my local center for support. Much good will come of it. I've decided that I can trust myself enough to reach out. I know what I need and have been avoiding it, but as we say, I've got this.

My mom was Lily Bloom and I’m her Emerson but sadly it did not end there . I wish I could have not fallen for the charm or been blinded by the red flags but like my mom nobody saw the signs . My mom wasn’t able to leave and she wasn’t able to tell her story. But after sharing with her the trauma I endured from these past two insanely manipulating, toxic , abusive relationships . She was finally able to tell me I wasn’t alone , and my father was her Ryle , and like all Ryles they say they can change . But they won’t . Thankfully my mom and I both left our Ryles and found comfort in being each others safe place .